Asian Kung-Fu Generation are Japan's golden boys: multi-award winning, critically acclaimed and usually at the top of the charts – in terms of homegrown talent, you can't get much bigger. Takamatsu, by contrast, is the sleepy southern port at the heart of Kagawa. There's little to see and little to do – in terms of Japanese prefectures, you can't get much smaller. Tonight these worlds collide as Ajikan (as the band are known for short) leave the metropolis behind and head to the countryside for some rural rock'n'roll.

As fans line up quietly around the outer wall of Takamatsu castle (every Japanese city worth its salt has a citadel, although Takamatsu's is poorly maintained by standards set elsewhere), the typically wild dress sense of Japanese youth is notable only by its absence. However, after the show, Ajikan's head honcho, Masafumi Goto, tells me the Takamatsu crowd represent the "pure" Japan. "There's no difference between a show here and in Tokyo," he says. "The Tokyo crowds are also from the suburbs and countryside, they just feel ashamed of this when they come into the city, so pretend that they are cool and urban when really they are not. This is a very Japanese way."

Once inside, audience members remove their jackets to reveal the same Asian Kung-Fu Generation T-shirts, which, on closer inspection, provoke the same disorientating effect as staring too long at a Magic Eye picture.

Japanese band Ajikan on stage Photograph: Alex Hoban/guardian.co.uk

Tonight's gig is in the 2,000-capacity Kenmin Hall, a seated venue that usually hosts Kabuki theatre and traditional instrumental recitals. The band decided to play here as they are "trying to do things differently" on this tour. But with club and gigging culture still relatively new in Japan, and largely unheard of outside major cities, it is likely that Takamatsu doesn't have another suitable venue to accommodate Ajikan.

The gig itself is an epic spectacle with high production values. The bandplay against a backdrop of a cartoon-rendered electric train, supposedly travelling through Japan to Kamakura. With each song comes a dramatic set change to mark the next "stop" on the journey; painted city skylines give way to isolated island scenes. When a giant red shrine gate is lowered from the ceiling under erratic strobe lights, it appears that we are heading into Spinal Tap territory. From start to finish, it's monumental fun, even if being seated restricts the audience's ability to dance.

One of the strangest things about going to gigs in Japan is the tendency for artists to engage in lengthy conversations with the audience, turning into MCs. When I ask the band why they do this, they say they have never really thought about it but that "it is a cultural thing – Japanese people are very shy compared to other Asian countries. We talk to the crowd to relax them and warm them up so that they can let go and have fun".

At the end of the evening, the band sit in their dressing room sipping champagne. "Normally, we have a small after-party arranged by the local promoter," says Goto. When I ask them if they get up to any mischief they giggle nervously, "No, no we don't". Surely, they must have wanted to throw a television out of a hotel room window? "No! We don't think rock stars are like that anyway. We met the Gallagher brothers once. They were much nicer than we thought they would be. We opened for their tour in Japan. Noel was very nice, he told us to 'keep rocking!'"

Asian Kung-Fu Generation's show ends in a hail of ticker tapes blasted out over the cheering crowd. But when the house lights turn on, fans are kneeling. They're picking up little handfuls of the confetti and slipping them into their pockets as tiny mementos.